


The Wager

by kethni



Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: F/M, Off-screen Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22306951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: ‘Jesus, I don’t know whether to bang your heads together or give you both a drink,’ Ben said.
Relationships: Kent Davison/Selina Meyer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	The Wager

**Author's Note:**

> For Anonymous who asked for: Can I request VP Selina and Kent both losing a bet to Ben and to mess with them, Ben tells them they have to go on a dinner together. They begrudgingly agree and strangely happen to have a good time together.
> 
> ***Edited because the pictures seemed to be erratic in when they were visible.

They were getting right on Ben’s tits. He liked Meyer, as much as you could ever like a politician, and he fucking hated Davison. By rights he should be bang on side with helping Meyer crush Davison. But Jesus, Davison was more professional Meyer, a low bar for sure, and was actually efficient. Being chief of staff meant Ben had to give more of a shit about professionalism and efficiency than actual likeability.

The annoying thing, the most annoying thing anyway, was that he couldn’t even pull the whole “you’re both being assholes” line, because Davison wasn’t the one aggressing. He really _wanted_ it to be Davison’s fault, at least partly, but the asshole insisted on thinking of Meyer as a minor annoyance. Meyer, however, seemed to think that Davison was her fucking nemesis. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so fucking annoying.

‘Jesus, I don’t know whether to bang your heads together or give you both a drink,’ Ben said.

Selina stopped mid-sentence. ‘I’ll take a drink. I’m not having one with that fucker. Take it up with _him_ , he’s out to get me, Ben. I don’t know what the hell I did to the man, but he hates me.’

Ben clasped his hands over his stomach. ‘Plenty of people hate you, Selina, concentrate on them. Don’t go imagining it where it doesn’t exist.’

Selina leaned on his desk. ‘Why’re you defending him?’

‘I’m not. Look, I’ll prove it to you.’

‘How?’ Selina threw up her hands. ‘How can you possibly prove that?’

Ben tapped his fingers on the desk as he thought. ‘I’ll call him and talk about you. Then you can hear him not give a damn about you.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Why the hell would I want to hear him say that?’

‘What?’ Ben asked. ‘Why wouldn’t you want to hear him say that?’

She opened and closed her mouth. ‘I’m the Vice President! I don’t want to hear anyone say that I’m not important!’

Ben leaned back in his chair. ‘You must go through a lot of ear plugs.’

‘Are ya done?’ she growled.

‘You came in here,’ he pointed out. ‘This is my office.’

‘And you really use it to good effect,’ she sneered.

Ben huffed out a breath. ‘I don’t know what to tell you. I can’t stand the guy either. And I have to talk to him a lot more than you do.’

‘He’s not standing between you and POTUS!’

Ben scratched his ear. ‘You think Davison is stopping you from talking to POTUS? He’s only been back a couple weeks. What do you think was stopping you for the last two years?’

***

Ben was running kinda late getting into work. Traffic had been a pain in the ass all the way, not that bad traffic was anything new. Ben flipped someone off as he turned into executive parking. He’d cut them off but they’d honked at him, so they had it coming. He pulled into his spot, just about scraping the paint off Roger Furlong’s car that had no damn business being parked there, and squeezed himself out of the car.

He heard the brisk footsteps first. As he looked around, he saw Davison walking quickly towards a sporty little thing. Ben thought it had a Tesla badge on it. Jesus. Of fucking course Kent would drive an electric car. 

‘Hey, you’re heading the wrong way,’ Ben called.

The other man paused. ‘I’ve been here almost two hours already.’

‘The fuck you have!’

A muscle twitched in Kent’s mouth. ‘Feel free to ask POTUS. Doubtless at some point he’ll be able to free up some time for you.’

‘Listen, I need you to play nicely with Meyer.’

Davison looked at him blankly. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘She thinks that you’re out to get her.’

Davison shook his head as he unlocked his car door. ‘I’m not responsible for her paranoia.’

‘You don’t have to feed into it!’

‘I never have.’ He opened his car door. ‘Ben, I’m not responsible for a simple clash of personalities.’

Ben jabbed a finger at him. ‘Everyone clashes with you! You’re the math guy. Spot the common denominator.’

Davison raised his eyebrow. ‘You are now late for your meeting with the Speaker.’

‘What? Fuck!’ Ben spun around and huffed away.

***

Committee investigations were boring as fuck. Ben had this one on in the corner of the room while he yelled at idiots on the phone. Who said that men couldn’t multitask?

‘You look bored,’ Meyer remarked, leaning in his doorway.

‘I’m never bored,’ Ben said. ‘But sometimes I am understimulated.’

She snorted and wandered in. She perched on the edge of his desk. ‘Jeez, look at her hair. She knew she was going to be on TV and that’s her hair.’

‘He’s got something in his teeth,’ Ben said.

Meyer squinted at the screen. ‘He’s over fifty, what do you expect?’

‘Guys over fifty all have food in our teeth?’

‘None of you learned to give a shit about your appearances,’ she said. ‘Even guys in their forties know to be polished and look put together.’

Ben absently tried to clean a spot of mustard from his tie. ‘I used to think that equality meant women could be as loud and overconfident as men. Turns out it means men getting anorexia.’

‘Yeah, because there’s nothing like a man for seeing women clawing some awareness for their suffering, and deciding they deserve it too,’ she sneered.

‘Don’t look at me,’ Ben said. ‘I can’t even remember the last time I ate a vegetable.’

‘Shocking,’ said a voice from the doorway.

Ben didn’t look but Meyer did. Ben saw her lips twist.

‘Hey Kent,’ she said. ‘Looking for something to do?’

He gestured with the folder that he was holding. ‘POTUS has asked for you to check these.’

‘Are you trying to shove your work on me?’ Ben demanded.

Davison blinked at him. ‘No. You barely do your own work. Asking you to do mine would inevitably backfire.’

Ben scratched his forehead. ‘Good point. Where’s Jonah? He can do whatever the hell that is.’

‘That can’t possibly backfire,’ Meyer said.

‘Not on me,’ Davison said dryly.

‘That idiot could set water on fire,’ Meyer added.

‘Ben’s been giving him all his filing,’ Davison said.

If Ben didn’t know better, he’d had sworn that Davison was laughing at him. Ben swung himself to his feet. ‘Jonah’s an idiot but he’s not such an idiot that he can’t _file_ properly.’

Meyer sniggered. ‘Wanna bet?’

Ben hitched up his pants. ‘Okay, yeah. We can each pick a thing that he’s filed recently, and if he can’t find them then you win. If he finds them then I win.’

Meyer rolled her eyes. ‘You know how to live, Ben.’

‘No,’ Davison said.

‘What? Why?’

Davison put his hand on his hip. ‘That merely tests whether Jonah can remember where he left them, the answer to which might be; in a box under his desk. If the test is of his ability to file correctly then someone else needs to retrieve the documents.’

‘Right!’ Meyer’s finger stabbed the desk. ‘And they can’t know why, or they’ll cheat.’

Davison nodded. ‘If they know we’re testing Jonah then they’ll likely throw the files into the garbage.’

‘Who’s gonna do that?’ Ben asked.

Davison shrugged. ‘Anyone who’s ever met him.’

***

Ben normally wagered Kent for money or booze. Not that Davison was an inveterate gambler or anything. Not nearly enough for Ben’s taste. Bets were a good way to release tension and fuck knew there weren’t enough of those. Maybe that was why when he won the bet with Davison and Meyer, barely as it happened, he didn’t demand money or booze as his payment. Nah, he figured he’d have some yucks at their expense and maybe teach the pair of them a lesson. Although he had pretty low hopes of that. Davison was an asshole and Meyer was paranoid. They’d probably end up killing each other, which would be one way of solving the whole bullshit problem.

‘Dinner,’ Ben said. ‘You know. Food. Drinks. Hell, go to a show if you want.’

Davison did that little pursed lips and eye roll thing that always drove Ben nuts.

Meyer _blushed_. You had to look close to see it under all the makeup, but it was there all right. Davison wasn’t looking at her, thank Christ.

‘I suppose you think this is fucking hilarious,’ she said.

Ben waggled his hand. ‘It’s about a four right now. I’m thinking the actual dinner will be more like an eight. A ten if one of you gets drunk.’ 

***

There was something special and meaningful about eating an evening meal with the family. There had to be something special and meaningful about it, Ben thought, or nobody would put up with the terrible food, inane chatter, and brain crushing boredom.

‘Ben!’

‘What?’

Joyce glowered at him.

‘Seriously, what?’ Ben asked.

She indicated towards his younger son. Ben set his shoulders as he swivelled towards Stevie.

‘What is it?’ Ben asked, dreading the answer.

‘The tooth fairy didn’t come last night,’ Stevie said.

Ben rested his elbow on the table and leaned his face on his fist. ‘Did you tell the tooth fairy that you lost a tooth?’

‘Uhhh…’

Joyce forced a smile, or something that could pass for one if you didn’t look too closely. ‘I think that daddy meant that the tooth fairy was probably very busy last night and will _definitely_ come tonight,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘Right, daddy?’

Ben looked at Stevie. ‘How old are you?’

‘Five.’

‘Ben!’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Ben said. ‘Tooth Fairy tonight. For sure.’

Joyce shook her head. Ben knew that getting home for dinner was a mistake, especially when his cell chimed, and Joyce looked like she wanted to throw a plate at him.

‘What?’ he asked, weakly as he took it out. ‘I have to check it. It might be work.’

‘Family dinner is a time for us to come together,’ she said. ‘To grow and learn together away from the toxic environment of the outside world and especially of politicians!’

Ben glanced at her. ‘I won a bet with Davison and Meyer, so I made them go out on a date together. Now they’re both texting me.’

Joyce’s eyes widened. ‘What are they saying? What are they doing?’

‘I’m finished. Mommy can I –’

She flapped a hand. ‘Yes, yes, whatever! Mommy and daddy are busy!’

‘You eat lamb all the time!’ Joyce protested.

‘Uh, I like the way that you cook it,’ Ben said.

‘Ha!’

'It's true,' he said weakly. 

She took the cell from him and squinted at it. ‘Oh, that’s so sad,’ she said, shaking her head. 'He shouldn't eat alone.' 

‘No, it’s not,’ Ben huffed. ‘He’s like a robot person. You saw what he wrote. He’d rather eat alone anyway.’

‘He’s not met the right lady yet,’ Joyce announced. ‘Or man!’

Ben pulled a face. ‘Don’t those people have enough problems without shoving Davison on to them?’

‘We should invite him to dinner.’

‘We are _not_ doing that.’

‘What’s happening now?’ Joyce demanded.

‘You know exactly what I know! They’re probably arguing. Those two could fight over water being wet.’

‘Ohhh.’

‘Don’t say it like that,’ Ben said, standing up and picking up his dishes.

Joyce gathered up the rest. ‘Like what?’ she asked innocently.

‘Like it means something.’ Ben followed her into the kitchen. ‘Two people don’t like each other. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything. They’re both terrible people.’

Joyce shrugged. ‘Is she dating anyone?’

Ben scowled as he leaned back against the counter. ‘I don’t know. She keeps picking up and dropping her ex-husband, so she’s obviously got no taste in men worth a stuff.’

‘Oh, you would never take up with an ex?’

‘None of my exes are slimy, philandering frauds!’

‘She’s met me five times!’ Joyce protested.

Ben scratched his ear. ‘Three times and she meets a lot of people.’

Joyce held up her hand with her fingers outstretched. ‘Five times! 1) When you had your last heart attack, 2) The West Wing Christmas party, 3) your birthday party, 4) _her_ birthday party, and 5) that gallery opening. Five times.’

Ben rolled his eyes. ‘And she doesn’t remember any of them.’

***

‘Is he joking?’ Joyce asked.

‘Nah, I don’t think so. That’s totally the stuff he thinks about.’

‘But why would people not be happy? They’re both single. It could be so romantic!’

Ben gave her a sideways look. ‘It was just a bet. She turned up half an hour late and nearly threw a plate at him.’

Joyce waved her hand. ‘They have spicy chemistry! That’s a good thing.’

Ben shook his head. ‘It’s a thing that always leads to divorce. Believe me, I’ve had tons of “spicy chemistry” and it never ends well.’

‘Pah. You’ll see.’

‘God, I hope not.’

***

Davison was right, they’d been papped although even the rags didn’t seem much interested in it. Only one of them had a public profile and that was her. Who the hell cared what the vice president did? That was something that Meyer just couldn’t come to terms with. She was the body double, the stunt guy, the scapegoat. That was her job. Nobody had forced her to take the job. The only time her love life made the news was when she was spotted with her slimy ex or some other borderline criminal asshole. The woman’s type seemed to be “dude who always looks like he’s defrauding someone’s grandma.”

He had no idea what Davison’s taste in women was. Weird robot women from the DMV maybe. That seemed about right.

Ben made it to his desk before Davison came in. Ha. That’d teach him. Somehow. He was feeling pretty good about things, right up until he heard the whistling. Whistling wasn’t a common sound in the West Wing. Shouting, sure. Screaming, sometimes. Cursing, constantly. But whistling? Nobody whistled.

Ben’s… first wife? Or second… No, definitely the first, had been into amateur dramatics. She’d told Ben that whistling on stage was considered unlucky. Just about everything was considered unlucky to those people. Saying “good luck” was unlucky. It was a wonder any of them ever got out of bed.

Hearing that cheerful whistle coming along the corridor, Ben was considering whether the theatre folks might have a point about it. He sure as hell had an anxious knot building in his belly.

‘Good morning, Ben,’ Davison said as he walked past the door.

He never did that. Whistling, cheerful Davison was filling Ben with a horrible feeling of dread.

It couldn’t be. The world would spin off its axis first.

Right?

Ben scrambled out of his chair and tramped along the corridor to Davison’s office. It was pokey and cluttered, but it was right next to the Oval Office. Prime real estate.

Davison was humming now as he hung up his jacket. _Humming_. Ben felt sick.

‘You’re in a good mood,’ Ben accused.

‘Thank you,’ Davison said. ‘You’re not.’

‘I was before you got here!’

Davison cocked his head. ‘Are we talking about this morning, this year, or in a wider existential sense?’

‘This morning.’ Ben slammed the door behind him. ‘Tell me you didn’t.’

‘Didn’t what?’

‘Don’t make me say it!’ Ben threw up his hands. ‘You went out to dinner with a woman last night and now you come sauntering in, whistling away like the cat that got the canary.’

The corner of Davison’s mouth twitched. He half turned away for a moment to turn on his little kettle. ‘Why Ben, whatever are you implying?’

Ben slammed his hands on the desk. ‘If you and Selina Meyer had a god damn fabulous dinner and ended up… Jesus! This is a disaster.’

‘Whoa, bad time?’

Ben turned around. He hadn’t even heard her open the door. ‘That was shut for a reason.’

Meyer gave a cheeky shrug. ‘Oopsie.’

‘Oopsie?’ Ben echoed.

‘Can I talk to Kent real quick?’ she asked sweetly. ‘I promise you can yell about disasters right after.’

Davison chuckled.

Ben looked from one to the other, the terrifying threat now a calamitous certainty. ‘Oh my God.’

‘Come on, Ben,’ Meyer chided, slipping past him and waving him out of the door. ‘Don’t be such an Eeyore. Life is pretty good, you know!’

The door slammed shut in his face. Ben’s head dropped. ‘I’ve created a monster,’ he moaned.

On the other side of the door, he heard Meyer giggle girlishly.

The End.


End file.
